Wake Up
by Lee.Rivers
Summary: 1980. Sam Tyler and his wife, Annie Cartwright, begin to question their ambiguous reality as a series of maddening events begin to unfold after a certain new arrival at CID. Transition from Life on Mars into Ashes to Ashes. Loosely based on the song "Wake Up" by Arcade Fire/cover by David Bowie.
1. Chapter 1

There was only clear, blue sky. It seemed that the wind was rushing straight through him, gently carrying him away. And he felt in his heart what could only be mere bliss: that's all there was to it: a wonderful sensation as the ground below remained so far away.

Then he jolted, falling.

And woke up.

His wife, Annie, lay beside him, undisturbed by his troubled dreams. She seemed so peaceful, so tranquil, that he couldn't bring himself to close the distance between them, shake her shoulder, and watch those large eyes beam at him as he opened himself to the only person he trusted. Still, he envied her peace.

Slowly sitting up on his elbows, Sam Tyler passed a heavy hand over his eyes, shivering slightly. Outside, the air was fresh, the night slowly dissipating. Why? He couldn't understand; he'd been dreaming just fine. No murder from his daily job had ever crept into his dreams, and the elation of flying he'd had whilst sleeping hardly seemed scary enough to wake him up, heart pounding. Sam rose, pulling the shirt over his head to change into a _drier_ one, the other having been drenched with his sweat. He sat at the edge of the bed and while the warmth brought comfort, he could not help recalling another time when recurring visions had constantly haunted his dreams and his daily life.

God. Did that really happen?

What year was it? 1980. And back then? 1973. Almost a lifetime ago. He'd had seven years worth of tranquility and now, Sam once again felt despair creep over him. His life here seemed so real, so plausible that he had made up his mind and accepted the odd circumstances of his life, and yet…he had never forgotten those times. He had never gotten over the feeling that something was still wrong. Whenever he found himself alone, Sam would pound his head, attempting to squeeze from his mind the memory of his mother's face wrinkled with time, the clean roads of Manchester that would soon come and all the technological advances the modern times would bring. But the memories refused to be brought forth and so he was left with the notion that perhaps he had dreamed it all.

Sam smiled and shook his head. He had been going mad in those times and still no one had ever sent for the men in white coats. No one had even questioned if he was completely sane. Maybe the others had never truly paid attention to what he said, what with him being a newcomer to their ranks. Yet Annie had stood by his side, never judging him, never questioning; only listening with as much patience as needed to help him through.

The despair slowly subsided now that he was fully awake, and he settled comfortably again, ready to sleep. But a vague numbness invaded him, a suspended state that felt almost like depression. He wasn't sad, he never wanted for anything. And as he pressed his forehead against Annie's, he recalled that this numbness had once reminded him which world was the real one.

Time had passed, and anguish began creeping into his heart.

* * *

There was a bit of commotion down at the CID when Sam and Annie stepped through the doors the following morning. Chris was all in a rush, fluttering from here to there, moving things around, re-arranging his paper tray, jumping at every person that went by. This would have almost been normal-Chris behavior had he not been his usual cheerful self. Ray too was acting strange; fidgeting with his hair, rearranging his tie every five seconds and not even stopping to greet Sam with his snide remarks. Not noticing anything amiss, Annie gave Sam a quick kiss and went on to join Phyllis and the other WPC's, leaving Sam to deal with them on his own.

Still puzzled as to what could have put his mates in such a state, Sam made towards Gene's office and entered without bothering to knock. Dispensing with for formalities was something he'd had to get accustomed to and even now, he wondered exactly how Hunt managed it to keep everyone in line while at the same time maintaining a trusting environment among his entire force. As he walked in, Sam began formulating some snarky remark about the clowns outside when he realized Gene was not alone.

A curious-looking man in horned-rimmed glasses stood leaning against the wall, towering over Gene who sat in the dusty, swivel chair that he'd had forever. He gawked at Sam, not annoyed with the interruption, but instead with a mild interest. Sam turned a questioning gaze to Gene and would have laughed at the look his commanding officer bore, fuming with unabashed annoyance.

"DI Samuel Tyler, I presume?" The man said, moving forward and outstretching his hand. Sam shook it in return and said, "Just Sam."

The man smiled and Sam inexplicably felt as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him.

"DCI Jim Keats, Discipline and Complaints."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam wasn't sure why, but this new man, Jim Keats, made him feel strange and cold, despite his friendly appearance.

"There been any complaints, sir?"

He chuckled and smiled. "No, no. Merely routine, DI Tyler"

"Jimbo's 'ere to conduct a temporary investigation" Gene said, emphasizing the _temporary_ as he sulked behind his desk.

Keats didn't seem fazed or offended by Gene's comment, or the snarky nickname only Gene was capable of giving when he felt no sympathy for such a person.

"What kind of investigation?" Sam asked. He considered for a moment the kind of questioning he was doing to this new DCI, but again, Jim Keats was not fazed. "Well Sam, if you've been aware, the reports of corruption in the Metropolitan Police Service have increased during the past two years. Therefore-"

"Therefore you're hunting for bent coppers"

Keats smiled again and removed his glasses, proceeding to wipe non-existent grime from them. "_Bent_ is not the exact term I'd use DI Tyler, but for practical reasons, let's say I am."

* * *

Moments later, Gene gathered his team outside his office to brief them on Keats' stay, pressing them to remain on a strict yet casual relationship with the "other Guv" in post.

The phone rang at Sam's desk. He moved over, barely able to answer when a sudden shrill resonated from the earpiece the moment he placed it against his head. Crying out, he flung the phone away from him, but it didn't stop. It persisted, unchanging, blocking out every other sound from that moment.

He tried pressing his hands over his ears, but it only made it stronger. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fells to his knees, a few tears pouring due to the immense pain.

Everyone in the room rushed around him, though not daring to go any closer. Gene shoved his way through to Sam, calling out "Tyler!" as he knelt next to him, sending Chris to fetch for Annie.

Their shouting felt like drumming inside his head; all he could do to try and subdue the noise was lean over, his forehead already touching the floor as one hand gripped the back of his head, the other fiercely clutching on to the arm of the Guv.

He could barely think straight, but one thing was certain: just like his past hallucinations or messages from the other world when he was in a coma, the sound was medical. In those days he would suddenly listen to the faint whirring sound of a breathing machine, or the steady beat of the heart monitor, keeping track of him at all times. But this particular sound that left him paralyzed sounded like a constant beep, as though he were flatlining.

He was alive.

This was his reality now.

He. Was. Alive!

Annie arrived beside him, calling out his name as she passed her hand over his head. The touch was so gentle, sweet in comparison. It did little good, but it was still comforting to have her nearby, as well as the Guv. Without much thought, Annie pressed a wet towel on the nape of his neck, smoothly slipping her hand beneath Sam's forehead to act as a cushion against the floor. He couldn't possibly notice, but his face was contorted with agony, flushing red down to his chest. His hanks shook uncontrollably, but his grip felt firm on Gene's arm.

Unnoticed in the corner of the room, Jim Keats stood and watched the scene with proud arrogance.

Annie and Gene kept shaking Sam, trying to move him. For a moment there he expected the Guv to give him a good slap and knock some sanity back into him. Opening his eyes for a moment, he caught the familiar faces of those he worked with, detectives and constables all alike, staring down at him with bewilderment. Chris was nowhere to be seen and Ray, abandoning all nervousness from before, kept pushing everyone back, as though holding a mob in place. The pain went on, and on, and he couldn't move; he felt as though knives were being drilled into his head, and he feared he might go deaf, the pain in his ears was so strong.

He saw Keats appear into view, bending down over him and attempting to calm him down by speaking in a soft, soothing voice, as if simple reasoning would help Sam overcome the physical torture he was being submitted to. But Keats' proximity did the exact opposite. His presence was like a blow to Sam's head and the throbbing in his head increased twofold. Sam let out a loud scream as he huddled into a fetal position, turning on his side away from Keats.

Gene watched him both helpless and bewildered and he held on to Sam, attempting to be supportive, but in the end being a hindrance, letting Annie to do all the work.

"Come on, Sam", he muttered, placing a heavy yet reassuring hand on his shoulder.

All of a sudden, the noise stopped, and Sam felt as though all the air inside his lungs had been sucked out in a quick motion. He gasped and coughed hoarsely, almost drowning.

"Sam? Come on Tyler, can ye hear me?" Gene said, grabbing his chin and shaking his head from side to side.

Sam winced and opened his eyes slightly; aware that even the dim lights of the CID offices would seem painfully blinding. Nevertheless, he still caught sight of Annie and Gene's faces filled with worry and fright. He coughed some more and, placed a hand over Gene's, reassuring him that the episode was over. Hunt sighed with relief, and in an easy-like manner, helped him sit up.

"Sam? What happened? Are you alright?" Annie was shaking; her hands fluttering nervously over him like a bird. Sam nodded, trying to muster a smile, but to no avail. He placed his hands on his head again, the pain gone and relief swelling instantaneously, but he felt weak, almost sick, and his throat was hurting.

"What-", he began, in a hoarse whisper. "What happened?"

"You tell us, Sammy boy" Gene said, his lips pursing as he relaxed down on the floor beside him.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. My head… didn't you hear it? Anything?"

"Not over yer screams, lad"

Sam slowly looked over at him. He had been screaming. Of course, the pain had been intolerable, so much so that it left him incapacitated, without being able to listen or move, let alone think properly. But he hadn't realized that he'd screamed, the only proof being the ache in his throat and Hunt's word.

With some effort, Sam was helped up by Annie, whose pale face still bore the horror she'd felt. Uncaring of what the others would say, she held tightly on to Sam frightened by what could have happened.

"Here you go, boss". Chris returned into the room, holding a saucer of tea. He offered it to Sam who was now resting in the chair next to his desk. He was trembling visibly and could barely muster the strength to hold himself up.

A determined Phyllis came in at that moment and she began herding back all of the police force barking orders left and right so that DI Tyler could have a breather.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Sam remained at the Nurse Station at Headquarters. The room was left all to himself and Sam was grateful for the rest the silence in it brought. Cloth curtains had been pulled around his bed and a large pitcher of water had been left by his beside, though he could not imagine the effort of having to lift it and then pour the liquid into the small glass. He looked up at the bland, beige colored ceiling and tried to understand exactly what had happened to him. However, the shock was still too great and his mind so muddled that he quickly gave up after a few minutes, closing his eyes and allowing the blackness of sleep to take the edge off of what had happened.

So much for taking a day off work _at_ work.

"Sam?"

He opened his eyes and Annie's face swam into view. She was sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand clutching his own tightly. He smiled warmly at her, almost as he had simply awoken from an afternoon nap, and pulled her towards him.

"You alright?" He asked her.

Annie laughed, thinking on the irony of the situation. "You're one to tell." She spoke in a quivering voice as she buried her face against his shoulder. "What happened?"

"Dunno," Sam said, shaking his head. He wasn't sure whether he should tell Annie his theory. It's not as if he'd heard any voices telling him to hold on long enough to come home. This was something entirely new and something he was not sure he himself was prepared for. Nevertheless, it was pointless to worry her now. Perhaps it had been nothing at all. A simple fluke of his mind, even if it had been years since he had heard anything.

But still… first the dream, and now this.

"Sam," Annie began, "what did you hear?"

He turned away from her without answering. Naturally, it was pointless to worry her, but that did not mean Annie was ignorant of her own husband. "Sam. Are you hearing things again? About… you know, from where you come from"

"_Came_ from" He muttered, the truth already out.

She sighed, not sad, not angry. Sam wasn't sure what she was thinking, though he was certain a degree of anger or disappointed was directed at him as she turned her head away. But she was merely frustrated. With a major in psychology, she could understand Sam's delusions, and she had always been careful about it after he had threatened to kill himself; but that didn't stop her from feeling frustrated at the fact that, even after so much time and effort, Sam would still misconceive the world they lived in, their reality. She'd stopped asking him about it, in case it would trigger the visions again, and he's said no word about his supposed family from the past. Even so, the doubt had always remained in her, the tiny fear that Sam might slip away from her.

Leaning her head on his chest, Annie repeated, after all these years, her simple plea.

"Stay with me"


End file.
